


The Partnership

by cestbelle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Modern Westeros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4017436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestbelle/pseuds/cestbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark knew how precarious her position as VP of Finance of Stark Inc. was. Not only was she young, she was probably the youngest woman in Westeros to ever hold such position. Coupling that with her troubled past, she knew a lot of people wanted to watch her fail. She was intent on proving herself, though, and that meant not letting these new, weird feelings for her stranged royal cousin Jon get in the way of the hard decisions she had to make.</p><p>Jon Targaryen wanted a different life, after a year filled with tragedies. His fiancée and step-mother dying less than 10 months apart, prompted him to try and reconnect with his birth mother's heritage. It didn't hurt that meant getting closer to his Stark cousins. Or that Sansa Stark was as beautiful as she was smart, even though she wasn't exactly what he was hoping to find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sansa

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing, Jon Snow.
> 
> Also, obligatory sorry about any weird grammatical stuff. English is not my first language, yadda, yadda.

**Sansa**

 

She couldn’t help but nervously watch the numbers on the display, indicating the elevator getting closer and closer to her office floor. She tried not to think about the last time she had seen her cousin Jon, but the nasty things she had said kept slipping through her mind and she remembered them like they had been said yesterday. She used to be a spoiled little girl and she was hoping to be able to show him she had changed, grown up into a mature adult woman who was more than ready to do business with her royal cousin on behalf of her father and brother.

The more she tried not think about, though, the more the memories of a summer 15 years ago came back to her mind. Jon’s father would let him come to Winterfell every summer, as per her father’s wish to remain close to Lyanna’s boy, since she had been his only sister. Therefore, every year Jon would come and cause everyone’s attention to avert from her. Being the spoiled little princess she was, of course, hated it, especially as her siblings would never want to play with her and follow her ideas. During one of these visits, when she was 11, it was a comment about a dress she was wearing, completely inappropriate for the children’s activities for the day, that sent her in a hateful tantrum in which she repeated venomous accusations, that spiteful women like Cersei Lannister, had said about her aunt and her cousin. And then she had never seen Jon again. She knew her siblings had met him several times after, but he had never visited Winterfell again and she had been either too proud or too ashamed to go after him. 

The sudden noise of the elevator door opening pulled her back to the present and she admonished herself for letting Jeyne go home when they learned Jon’s flight had been delayed and he was going to show up a lot later. She could have used a secretary to make her position in the company a lot clearer and she could have used a friend to help her face him, but at the time she thought she’d rather face him alone, at least that first time. The next week would see them together in many meetings and she felt they should clear any tension from the air first, so she took a deep breath and walked through the glass doors of her office and smiled politely at her cousin. 

She couldn’t say she was prepared to be hit with how good he looked in person. Sure, she had seen pictures of him. She had rolled her eyes when her friends, like Margaery and Mya – and even Beth and Jeyne who had met him as kids as well - asked what he was like and if she could introduce them. She had even been goaded into saying he was better looking than Robb and Theon at a game once, but that was only because Robb was her brother and Theon was, well, Theon. People always seemed to want to talk about Jon when in presence of his cousins somehow, even if she was the least close to him. Still she had to admit he looked even better in person and it probably had to do with the smile he was offering her.

Of course, that smile didn’t mean anything and could be fake, for all she knew. 

“Jon, welcome. Father and Robb are sorry they can’t be here, but they had to fly to Essos this week.” She moved to shake his hand, while he moved to hug her and her hand bumped awkwardly on his chest while she felt the ghost touch of his hands on her shoulders, as he pulled his arms back. She retreated her outstretched hand as well, smiling sheepishly at him. This was not off to a good start at all. 

“I’m sorry, Sansa. I don’t know what I was thinking... This is supposed to be business, right?” 

Somehow she managed to get hurt by his assessment of their awkward position, despite the fact that he was right. She opened her mouth to agree with him, assuming her business stance, when she notice his initial smile, had turned a bit more nervous. That made her relax a bit, this Jon, no matter how much more powerful and handsome he had gotten since their childhood was still the awkward kid from back then somehow. 

“Yes. Yes, this is business, but it’s also a family reunion of sorts isn’t it, cousin?” She led him into her office, gesturing for him to sit somewhere. “Which is why... I feel like I should start this with an apology that has been due for 15 years...” she started, but he interrupted. 

“Oh, no. Sansa, you don’t have to. You were 11. I was 14, I should have known better than...”

“Than trying to have fun with your cousins?” She couldn’t help but smirk a bit. “Everyone made fun of my dress, but you... You were the one I was rude to. The things I said... And you never came back after. Arya didn’t speak to me for a year and Robb took a while to forgive me too... Even father was so disappointed. None of that is anyone’s fault but my own, for being a spoiled brat.” 

“Than offending something that meant a lot to my dear cousin.” He continued his own train of thought, ignoring her. “Even back then, Elia taught me better and honestly, what happened that day made me realise how right she was about politeness. With my... Controversial background, I really should try my best to respect and understand everyone. Even my spoiled little cousin.” At that he smirked after that and Sansa felt every muscle in her body relax.

“Controversial? Is that what we’re calling your story now?” She asked, pouring a shot of whiskey for each of them.

“What would you call it then, cousin? Scandalous?” He reached for the glass she offered him.

Sansa considered her cousin carefully, before sitting down on the couch besides him. 

“No... Not scandalous. Romantic. Or inspiring.” She told him seriously and wasn’t really surprised when he laughed.

“Romantic? And here I was, thinking you were completely different from your 11 year old self. I’m glad there’s one thing didn’t change about you, Sansa.” He smiled so genuinely that if she was about to feel offended by his first remark the second one made her heart, surprisingly, skip a beat. 

“I mean it. Your father... The King and aunt Lyanna’s relationship... It was such deep love that even the Queen accepted it and even raised you like her own son after aunt Lyanna’s death, did she not?” Some of the details regarding her aunt’s relationship with the king, Sansa had only come to understand much later in life, and while it made her regret her words to Jon even more, it also inspired her not to forget about true love, even after everything that had happened to her. 

“Elia is... Her and my father were never in love. She just didn’t care about their relationship. You’re right about her caring for me. But only as a replacement for her own dead son.” He said and Sansa knew then he really believed it.

“You’re wrong.” She instinctively reached for his hand. “Queen Elia cared a lot about you. And she did care about your father and aunt Lyanna’s affair. Father says...” Sansa stopped herself before she’d say more than her father would like. Some of the things Eddard had told his eldest daughter a few years before were her father’s feelings to tell. “He says when she saw you for the first time, she wouldn’t let anyone near you. You were premature and she said Lyanna’s boy wouldn’t suffer the same fate as hers. That doesn’t sound like she was trying to replace her son. It sounds like she was trying to protect her friend’s.” She stood up to fix him a new drink as Jon had downed his while she spoke.

She could feel his eyes fixed on her back as she went to the bar and took longer than she normally would, allowing him some time to get his feelings in order. She hadn’t expect their first meeting to end up in such somber tones and she couldn’t imagine it being easier for him to talk about his recently dead stepmother, or his long gone mother, either. When she turned back to sit down with him, she found him still looking at her, as if she was some alien creature he had never seen before.

“I stand corrected, you have really changed, Sansa.” He said in a low voice, staring right into her eyes, then shook his head and smirked. “The Sansa I knew would never drink whiskey.” 

“The Sansa you knew was 11, Jon, she would never drink any alcohol. But I get what you mean, Princess Sansa would have grown up to be a wine girl.” She chuckled. 

“Well, I quite like this new whiskey drinking Sansa. She’s... Nice to be around.” And with the smile he gave her then, Sansa felt her heart skip yet another beat. 

She finished her own drink and cleared he throat, going to get herself another one, her mind focusing on business and the matters at hand, before she could think of anything else. 

Business was the real reason Jon was there, after all. As the second child of King Rhaegar, he wasn’t in line to inherit the throne, that was his sister Rhaenys. But, on his 30th birthday, he was to inherit a share of Targaryen Enterprises, the corporation under which all Targaryens, not in line to the throne, had their own endeavours as means to support themselves. Jon was currently assisting his aunt Daenerys with her recently established security company.

Sansa quite admired the woman’s project. She was preparing highly trained women, under government contracts, to be shipped off to dangerous places with high rape rates. The business had a bumpy start as governments in those places weren’t willing to spend money to protect their women, but once Jon came into the picture, to help Daenerys with the more bureaucratic matters, and she was free to travel to those places and negotiate directly with the governments, business had bloomed for the Princess. She hoped to talk about that with Jon eventually, too.

But Jon’s birthday was nearing and it was no secret in the business world that he had been looking for a project. What was a secret was that he had approached his mother’s family himself, looking for a partnership. Jon wanted to revive The Wall. He wanted to turn it into some kind of winter-historical-vacation-destiny-hotel thing, Sansa wasn’t quite sure exactly what he had in mind yet, but she knew some things. 

First, after the final long night, five centuries before, the new Dragon Queen, the first Daenerys, had gifted the Wall to her Stark nephew, as a repayment for his bravery in the defeat of the white walkers or, as some said, as a thanks for him forfeiting his rightful, stronger claim to the throne. This man had been the only other mix of Stark and Targaryen blood, and in truth he had been a Snow, a northern bastard, who had risen to become Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. He accepted his aunt’s gift, giving it to his Stark cousin, who was to be Lord of Winterfell, and disappeared, as legend say, to die as the war had claimed his red haired lover. That meant, legend notwithstanding, that since those days The Wall had belonged to the Starks, being more or less neglected depending on the Lord in power. She could see why Jon felt a connection to the place.

Second, the Lord of Winterfell was, currently, her own father, so if Jon wanted to do something with it, he’d have to go through the Starks, be it for a partnership or to buy out the entire damn thing. Sansa knew her father and brother wanted a partnership. They’d like to have an enterprise with Jon, and mostly, she knew both of them had an interest in the place, and had discussed ways of making it profitable, though clearly none of them had thought as much about it as Jon had.

Lastly, she knew either way, the decision would have to go through her. She was the VP of Finance and as such it was among her responsibilities to advise the board on how to best invest any money or property they had, so it would fall to her to decide how they’d do business with Jon in the end and she intended on making the most careful decision possible.

Sansa was well aware of how precarious her position was. Not only was she incredibly young to hold the VP office she did, having just turned 27, she was also an incredibly young woman. In a world controlled mostly by older man and the odd young man exception, like Robb, which was something her brother often used to try and calm or cheer her up, his favorite phrase being “Come on, Sansa, you made it to VP younger than I did! They should all be fearing you.” Which would be great if it weren’t for the facts that:

a) Robb was a business genius, his ideas and strategies always guaranteed to make profit, even though he couldn’t be trusted with the practical parts. (He once had managed to offend the ancient Mr. Frey when offering to buy out his business, by rashly telling the man he was running his business wrong, causing a crisis that, at least, forced him to learn how to listen to advice);

b) his complete inability to understand how it was much harder to be taken seriously as a woman in their line of work, much less cause fear in anyone; and

c) his overlooking on how the only reason Sansa had risen to the job was because she found out all the frauds and attempts to overthrow their business the Boltons had underway. The consequences of her unravelling of their scheming almost broke Stark Inc. And it had taken all of Robb’s creativity, her mastery at execution and their father’s impeccable public image to keep the company standing and still, such was the power vacuum left behind that she was the only one able to accept Roose Bolton’s old position.

She was intent on proving herself, though, to earn both the trust father had placed on her and Robb’s cheering, and this business with Jon was her first major chance of proving herself capable. She wouldn’t ruin it no matter whose ideas she’d have to kill in the process. 

“I have to admit, Jon,” She started, her mind still reeling from his last words. “I don’t really understand what you plan on doing with The Wall.” She almost felt bad, watching his smile drop a bit, but she didn’t allow herself to.

“Oh, well, it’s quite simple, really. I want to turn it into a winter spa and resort. I actually finally managed to finish putting together my business plan. I’m sorry I couldn’t forward it to you earlier, but between Khaleesi’s... That is Dany’s, Princess Daenerys’s business and Elia’s death... I’ve been helping Rhae... Princess Rhaenys and the kids, you know? I couldn’t go through it properly. Most of it was drafted by my advisor, Samwell Tarly, but I like finishing them myself before sending to any possible partners.” He moved to look through his briefcase, handing her a Targaryen branded portfolio.

“Thanks.” She looked through it, not managing to suppress a smile. This had been carefully crafted, from the font, to the colors and the charts. It was all very neat and organised and she had to appreciate it. “I’ll take a closer look at it later. Now, I know you and Robb talked a lot about it and you’d rather partner than just buying out The Wall. Why is that?” 

Of course, she knew why, she had had numerous conversations about it with Robb, but she also knew her brother’s judgement could be clouded by excitement and she’d like to hear the reasoning of this prospective partner for herself. 

“Well, the place would need several repairs. Stark Inc.’s primary activity is construction. Seemed like a no-brainer, really. I’d come in with the money for the repairs, you come in with the massive piece of land and the building’s foundations. From my estimation, I’d have to gather about half the value of the property to make all the changes we planned, so our partnership would be 51% for me and 49% for Stark Inc., if you accept it.” 

“We planned?”

“Yes, me, Sam and Robb. I wouldn’t dare making repair plans without consulting my partners.” He looked rather sheepish, though, and that prompted Sansa to smile.

“By which you mean you three had a video conference and dreamed bigger than your stubborn heads I assume?” She couldn’t help but to tease him, and she thoroughly enjoyed the shade of red that crept up his neck. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You were looking quite...” she stopped when she was about to say he looked charming. She looked at her empty glass, cursing the alcohol, even though she knew it wasn’t enough to make her act like that, it was easier to blame her loose tongue on it, than the fact that she was starting to feel comfortable in his presence.

“Quite what, Sansa?” He seemed to encourage her and she couldn’t help the blush on her cheeks.

“Hungry, you look hungry. You must have ome straight from the airport. I’m hungry too. Would you like to have dinner?”

She didn’t mean to ask him to dinner, not really. Her sensible side was flaring up all kinds of danger signals, and experience had taught her to heed those signals. Yet, her mouth had taken a life of its own and spurred out those words and now she was watching him agree to dinner with her. Despite all her sense, she couldn’t feel too bothered about it, even if she tried.


	2. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a plan to get closer to Sansa, but gets steam rolled by Arya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your kudos and comments on the last chapter. I hope this one doesn't disappoint.
> 
> Again, I own nothing.

**Jon**

 

When Jon got to his hotel room he wanted to say he was exhausted. After all, he had spent a good chunk of the morning dealing with his transition out of Khaleesi Safety, and a good chunk of the afternoon on a plane north, then a good chunk of the night in a business meeting with Sansa Stark, of all people. But the truth was, it had been months since he had last felt so aware, so electrified by something as he was now, after coming back from his dinner with Sansa.

He was ashamed to admit, when he found out she was VP of Finance, and the one he’d have to win over in the end, he immediately thought of the Sansa he knew when they were kids. The one who got jealous of the attention her siblings gave him and who had called him _‘the bastard of the King’s whore’_. He couldn’t understand how uncle Ned could have appointed her to such a position, even if he wanted to believe his uncle was above that sort of nepotism.

He didn’t share his misgivings about this to anyone but Sam, and even though his friend assured him of Sansa’s education and informed him of the rumors of how she was the one to quietly subdue the Bolton attempt to gain control of his uncle’s company, Jon didn’t exactly feel reassured by any if that. It wasn’t until Sam pointed out Jon’s feelings were born out of an old childhood resentment, that he realised he was right. Even if he had forgiven her a long time ago some of the hurt still lingered, and that had nothing to do with her CV, that by all accounts indicated she’d do what was best by her company. And Jon was sure his proposed business plan was that best thing.

Still, he couldn’t deny he was somehow terrified she’d be biased against him, out of the same childhood resentment he bore. As he did with anything that terrified him, he went to that meeting intent on conquering his fears, and that meant conquering Sansa Stark. By the end of the night, however, he found out she was truly fascinating. She was intelligent and fun to be around, even a bit flirtatious, and he saw himself trying to find out more about her, even though she would try to keep it all business, whenever he tried to change the subject. In the end, he didn’t mind having to conquer her at all, as a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind being conquered by her.

Jon groaned as his thoughts went there, the image of her pencil skirt hugging her hips and thighs coming to his mind immediately. He didn’t plan on feeling attracted

to his cousin. He didn’t plan on becoming attracted to anyone, really, the memory of Ygritte still deeply embedded within his mind, though, he found out, not as ingrained everywhere else. Getting over Ygritte was something he thought would be a lot harder, really, and it felt wrong that he was looking at other women like that, though to be fair, it had been only the one woman and Ygritte had died a whole year before. It still wasn’t fair that that woman had to be Sansa.

Decided to take his mind of her, Jon turned on his laptop to call Sam and talk about business. He had to have some urgent news that would require his attention so he could focus on anything else other than Sansa’s smiles and the way her long auburn hair fell down her shoulders.

“Hey, Jon! Sam, it’s Jon!” he was pulled back to this by Gilly’s smiling face. Sam’s wife was from the Wildlands, always glad to see him, and also the least probable to call him by his titles, which was probably his favourite thing about his friend’s family.

“Hello, Gilly. How are little Sam and little Rose?”

“Finally sleeping. I swear to the gods, I’ll have to ban books from this house or little Sam won’t stop reading. He gets it from his papa, though, so I’d have to upset more than one Sam for this.” Her candor made Jon laugh. Little Sam wasn’t really Sam’s son, but to watch them you’d never know it. They were so alike in appearance and temperament that if it wasn’t for the fact he knew Gilly was far into his pregnancy when Sam met her, he would doubt the little boy’s paternity himself.

“You’d never do anything to upset even one Sam, though, Gilly, and you know it.”

“You’re right.” She sighed, shaking her head and was soon shadowed by a large figure behind her.

“You said it’s Jon, love? Oh, hello, Jon.” His friend’s round face greeted him with a smile. “Had a good trip?”

“The best possible, after an hour delay. How are things in King’s Landing? Did Daenerys need anything?”

“No, Daenerys is fine. The fact that you managed to get Barristan Selmy to un-retire is really helping. Your sister has called, however. Apparently she has urgent news and couldn’t get a hold of you.” Jon cursed under his breath.

“I went straight to the meeting after we landed, didn’t even turn my phone back on. Did she say what kind of urgent news?”

“No, but it didn’t seem anything bad, Princess Rhaenys seemed, excited even.” Sam assured him, and Jon felt himself relax. Rhae had been feeling ill for the past weeks, and after watching Elia slipping away he had been worried.

“Thanks, Sam. I’ll text her and call her tomorrow. Anything else I should know?”

“I’m afraid the world isn’t falling apart around here for you to fix it, Jon. Was the meeting with Sansa Stark that bad that you’re already looking for distractions?” he should have known Sam would see right through him, but that didn’t keep him from stuttering his reply.

“I’m not... It did not... The meeting was... It was good. Sansa was good. We... Talked a lot. She’s... She was more than I expected, really.” There must have been something about the way he said that, because when he looked back to Sam, the other man was squinting at him.

“I know you, Jon Targaryen. I have known you for 10 years. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t even think about doing anything stupid and ruin this, Jon. She has to like you, even if you don’t like her.” With what Sam said, something clicked inside Jon.

“She has to like me, you’re right.” _‘She has to like me about as much as I like her, we can’t go into this on uneven ground, with me having a silly crush on her.’_

“Good, you understand it, now focus on the matter at hand. Have her agreeing with the partnership, you can’t buy out The Wall and pay for renovations and repairs. If you want to do it the Starks are your best option. There’s mutual trust, they’re an honest company... We don’t want you having to resort to Lannisters.”

“I don’t want that more than anyone.” Jon grimace at the thought of the Lannisters. “Sam, I need you to find out some things about Sansa for me. I’m using Elia’s perspective on this.”

“Are you sure? This could backfire...” Sam seemed hesitant and Jon could understand why, Elia’s business perspective could be quite... Dornish, and while it was a common thing back in her homeland, Jon had the feeling that seducing the VP of Finance to talk business wouldn’t be a tactic that VP would appreciate much.

But in all honesty, that wasn’t why Jon was more than willing to put to action what his stepmother had taught him, he just truly wanted to make Sansa like him, as much as he found himself liking her that night. He had caught her looking at him some times, and he could feel something had surfaced from her part too. If, with

that, he got a deal as well, good for them both. This was more like a subversion of what the whole thing was, really.

“Listen, it’s not going to backfire, Sam. I know what I’m doing.”

-x-x-x

 

The dornish have a saying: don’t do business with someone you can’t take to bed. He remembered quite well Elia explaining this to him.

“If you can’t take someone to bed, my dear, you can’t trust them. And if you can’t trust them, you can’t do business with them.” She’d say in her thick accent, whenever the subject came up on her charges’ education.

Rhaenys had been well out of her mother’s care by the time Jon heard this advice for the first time, when he was 16, but he had shared plenty of these lessons with his aunt Daenerys, and knew just how much she had applied it.

Jon himself had never felt the need to use his stepmother’s advice, though he knew the virtue behind it: business meant nothing without trust. It was really a lot more dangerous to go into business with someone you distrust, than going to bed with that person, and Jon liked to think he was careful on both ends, anyway. NOT that he wanted to go to bed with Sansa. He was just hoping for some flirting, that would make him feel a bit better about this newfound crush of his, and maybe enough to put him on her good side.

He felt confident enough that he could pull it off, too. He was attractive, he knew it, and he knew how to be charming and make himself even more attractive. It was all part of what Rhae jokingly called the Targaryen boot camp. They were royalty, but being so wasn’t enough, they had to look and act such part, and they had to know how to make people believe they needed them around. And, although it was likely his least favourite part of belonging to that family, Jon had learned how to do those things, anyway.

That was why he had asked Sam to find out which was Sansa’s favourite restaurant in Winter Town and arranged a reservation for them, before calling Sansa and finding a way to casually ask her out for lunch, as a way of repaying her dinner invitation last night and catching up, as they had mostly talked about business last night. He was relieved when she accepted, after what had felt like a long time of checking her schedule.

They didn’t have any meetings until the afternoon, so he spent the rest of his morning getting ready, careful with the details, coming up with a hundred ways to compliment her – which was easier than he cared to admit – and worrying a bit about what to wear and what to do with his hair. He also tried to call Rhae throughout the morning, with relatively less success than she had trying to contact him the day before.

Ten minutes before their meeting, found Jon already waiting for Sansa in front of the Stark Inc. building. He wasn’t there for five minutes yet when his phone rang and Rhaenys’s voice blamed through the speaker.

“I’m pregnant!” She announced a couple of times before Jon could understand it. He smiled a bit at the new though, allowing himself to be relieved.

“You and Quentyn waste no time, I see.” He teased. His older sister had been married for 8 years and this was her fourth child. It made him happy that she was living a full life, despite her position in the realm.

“Oh, well, making them is fun.” She teased back, and he grimaced, he always felt like he was 10 again, whenever his sister mentioned her sex life.

“I don’t need to know that.”

“Yes you do. Ygritte is not coming back and you get too sullen when you spend a lot of time without sex. You get too sullen when you’re having sex, little brother.” Jon really wished Rhae would stop talking about his sex life soon, before Sansa showed up.

“I don’t… I don’t need to have sex to be in a good mood, Rhae, I need something good to happen to me, for once..”

“Sex is a good thing. You can’t live in a vow of celibacy just because your fiancée died.”

“Sex is…” he completely forgot his argument with his sister when he saw Sansa leaving the building and spotting him. She looked even more beautiful than last night, wearing yet another pencil skirt, slightly longer than the one she wore yesterday, which to him only made it even more appealing, really. He must have developed a fetish overnight “Fuck.”

He heard a laughter from the other side of the line and interrupted her. “I have to go, Rhae, bye.” He hung up and stashed his phone away to smile at Sansa, to realise someone was already snatching her attention.

It was a small young woman, though he only thought she was small in comparison to Sansa, and the two were talking in a hushed tone until he approached them, at which point the two turned to him smiling identically. Jon didn’t take long to recognise the smaller woman, though.

“Arya?” I didn’t know you’d be in town.”

“No one knew she’d be in town.” Sansa said a bit exasperated. “Apparently some matches had to be changed around and The Wolves are playing The Seals here this weekend, so she showed up.”

“Father knew I’d show up.” Arya interjected.

“That’s because he actually watches hockey outside of your games, him and Robb, but they’re both in Braavos and didn’t remember to tell us.” Sansa sighed.

“Hockey? You still play?” Jon turned to Arya, a bit shocked.

He had kept in touch with her, even though it hadn’t been with as much frequency as he’d like, and it surprised him to learn he didn’t even know what she did for a living. It occurred him that he didn’t know much about his cousins lives at all, and that between three 5 minutes phone calls a year, there was no way he could. He only knew more about Robins life now because he had been his first contact within Stark Inc., after he had his idea for The Wall, and they had been talking and getting closer for the past six months. It felt kind of wrong and it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Aye, winger for the Winter Town Wolves.” She said proudly. “We’re playing the White Harbor Seals this weekend. You should totally come check us out. Sansa, mother and the boys are all coming.”

“You watch hockey?” He turned to Sansa, surprised, and that prompted her to smirk.

“More than you, it seems. But I only go to Arya’s games. Father and the boys are the real fans.” She turned back to Arya. “Don’t you have to go meet the Bull?”

“Gendry doesn’t come until tomorrow, I came to see if you wanted to have lunch. Mother is being a bore about my hair. I tell her it’s easier to play with it short like this, but all she does is cry over my ‘pretty brown curls’, I needed to get out.”

“Oh, but this cut flatters your face so much, I don’t…” Sansa caught herself mid-sentence, apparently noticing Arya’s annoyed expression. “I’m having lunch with Jon…”

“Is it a business lunch?” Arya asked, raising one eyebrow. Part of Jon wanted to say it was, just so he could be alone with Sansa, put his old charm to work, but, after realising he had been remiss with her, he didn’t really wanted to lie to Arya like that. It seemed Sansa didn’t either, and he found both of them hesitating to find the right answer. “So it’s not.” Arya concluded. “I can join you in that case.” She said, matter of factly. “Where are you going?”

“Nan’s Café.” Jon answered, feeling a bit blindsided. He managed to catch a small reaction from Sansa, though. Two raised eyebrows, showing her surprise. The kind of reaction he had hoped to have her alone for.

“Brilliant. They have a great rack of lamb.”

 

-x-x-x

 

Despite having most of his plans ruined for the day, Jon found he didn’t really care. He had a good time hanging out with Sansa and Arya, and he had managed to make Sansa laugh more than once, she also seemed quite comfortable around him, which felt like a victory in itself. At any rate, Arya had left them in a hurry, before dessert, claiming her nutritionist would kill her if he knew she was eating any of those fancy desserts.

“She didn’t change.” Jon noticed, a bit dizzy still, from the whirlwind that was Arya.

“Oh, don’t let her fool you, Jon.” Sansa laughed. “She changed quite a lot, actually. You wouldn’t believe it if you saw her with the Bull. She actually wears dresses.”

“You keep saying the Bull… Who is that?”

“Oh! It’s Arya’s boyfriend, Gendry. The Bull was his nickname when he played for the KL Dragons, because he was this big goalie who’d just stand there intimidating the other team, you know? But he injured his arm last year and retired. Mostly I think he just got the Wolves offer and wanted to stay close to Arya, but neither of them would admit to caring that much about the other, despite the fact that they have been dating steadily for about 5 years now. Anyway, he’s the women’s goalie trainer for the Wolves, and I have to say, between getting him and Brienne, the Wolves have been on a roll. Brienne of Tart was the first ever female coach of a man’s team? She had this huge winning streak with them, won everything left and right, but she left the Storm Stags for the Wolves ladies last year.” She added, as

she saw his still clueless expression. “Gods, Jon, you’re making me show how much I actually care about hockey.” She chuckled.

“Gods, you’re fascinating.” He blurted out, without really thinking.

He meant it, though, Sansa was a surprisingly fascinating woman. So far she had managed to surprise him with her apology, with her habit of drinking whiskey, with her rather blunt approach towards business and with how easy it was to be around her. The fact was that he couldn’t wait to see what other surprises she had to offer and that was why he couldn’t even bother to get embarrassed over his unplanned declaration, as he was rewarded with a blush on her cheeks of a kind he hadn’t seen yet. It made him want to see more of it. “I mean it. You are. Thanks for letting me see this side of you.” He smiled, momentarily forgetting that, even if he managed to flirt some with her, he shouldn’t really take it further, although, right then, he really just wanted to lean forward and kiss her lips.

“Oh. Uhm… I… Well, I grew up around the thing, I just try not to engage Arya, father and the boy’s too much, or they’ll never shut up.” She said, taking a long gulp of water after.

It was the mention of her father that made him remember this should all be relatively innocent flirting and that he shouldn’t give in to his cravings and kiss her right there, or even lean closer and tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. Whatever he did next, he had to be careful. It had to keep some kind of door open, it had to be gentle and kind, but also pretty non-threatening. It had to convey that he liked her, but how truly hesitant he was for it to be more. It felt odd to be so coldly planning how to act on things he actually felt, he’d usually just figure out what he did feel and act on it, but for her own sake, as much as his, their friendliness couldn’t be more. _‘No matter what you want, Jon. You can’t do what you actually want.’_

“You just keep surprising me, Sansa. You really do” He put one hand over hers, belatedly realising he might have gone for the kill right there. “I’m really glad you’re the one who had to welcome me last night.”

He watched her blush even further, but thought he saw a hint of something in her blue eyes as well, and he could feel a smirk spreading across his lips as he picked her hand, and kissed her fingers gently. He could feel the perfume she had likely sprayed on her pulse and his senses got overwhelmed with how amazing it was, he couldn’t help but linger with the kiss as he did.

“I-i… it-t was nothing.” She said in an adorable stutter and he let go of her hand.

“I’m still thankful. Oh, great, dessert is here. It looks great, doesn’t it?” He said and dug into his, quite satisfied with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made some editing to the chapter, thanks to Jamjar who noticed my complete lack of hockey knowledge. Thank you.


	3. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa asks for help and talks about the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks for the comments on the last chapter, and special thanks to Jamjar for all the hockey things. and to Rach for beta'ing.

**Sansa**

 

Sansa got home feeling like her skin was electrified, as it had been common ever since Jon left her home that first night after dinner. He had been driving her home on his rental all week after that, not letting her call a cab like she usually did. Thinking about that only really made her skin buzz further. She wasn’t too sure when they had started flirting, but she thought it had started on that first night, even if unintentionally. She even tried to avoid it the day after, asking Arya for help, but after her sister left lunch that day, and things started getting more flirtatious, she found she liked it, and wanted to reciprocate. At the very least it made her feel good to watch him smiling at her, or hearing his compliments (her favourite thing these past few days had been hearing him say she was fascinating, several times). And it wasn’t as if he had tried anything other than flirting.

Part of her was terrified of it not being all they were ever going to do, another part was frustrated that that seemed like all they were ever going to do, and the rest was excited like she had never been before. Every part of her knew that, no matter what her decision was, now it wouldn’t be completely unbiased. If she said yes to the partnership, she’d feel like she only did it so she could spend more time with him. If she said no, she’d feel like she only did it to keep him away. She wasn’t really sure she wanted either.

She kicked off her heels, picked up the business plan he had given her that first night, and sat on her bed. It didn’t look as neat as when he had handed it to her anymore, she had spent every night that week going through it and making notes, even of the most irrelevant things, like she could see Robb’s fingerprints all over the marketing planning for the resorts. Or how sometimes language would shift between technical and something almost passionate and she was sure the passionate parts were Jon’s work, the rest probably being Samwell Tarly’s (who she had come to meet during a video conference during the week and seemed to be as nice as he was uptight).

That night she tried to make a list of the pros and cons. She knew his plan was solid, she had been through it by herself, with him, with every senior member of staff at the company, they had even spent a whole day with the engineers talking about the possibility of reforming three of the old castles at The Wall for the hotel.

That was the only part that made her doubt it, even if only a little bit. She knew they could do it, their engineers were the best in all of Westerns, but it was the costs that gave her pause. In construction you couldn’t work on a really tight budget, you had to plan for the unpredictable situations that would no doubt appear, especially in such a large escape project like that one, like a rise in the price of materials, or delays that would lead to further paydays to workers, things like that. And Jon’s proposed budget was tight. Too little reserved for unforeseen circumstances. She knew that there was a solution, staring her right in the face, but she had looked at this for so long. She knew she was shortsighted in that regard when her pros and cons list consisted of three things:

Pros:

\- It’s a great way to turn The Wall profitable.

\- Marketing strategies are great, it WILL work.

\- We get to do business with ~~Jon~~ the Targaryens.

Cons:

\- Too little money reserved.

\- It might take too long to be profitable.

\- No ~~Jon~~ Targaryen name.

She snorted at herself for those two mindless slips she had to strike through, balled the list in her fists and threw it away from her, falling back on her bed. There was one thing she could do, and she knew it. She had hesitated the whole week to do it, but her time was running low, father would arrive on Sunday and he would expect an answer by Monday. If she wanted to have one, she’d have to ask a third, uninvolved party to help her and she knew who to ask. She just didn’t really want to make the call.

Anya Waynwood had been Sansa’s supervisor when she interned at the Vale. The stern old woman had taken a lot of time to warm up to her, but when she did, she taught her a lot, really becoming her mentor. The woman was also one of the few people who knew one of her deepest secrets, and brought it up every time they talked, which was why Sansa had been trying to avoid resorting to this. She wouldn’t have done it at all, if she didn’t feel like she had no choice. So she swallowed her apprehensions and made the call.

“Well, Miss Stark, that’s a surprising call, especially at this time of the night.” Was how the voice greeted her from the other line.

“Good night, Anya. How are you?”

“Surprised, I thought it went without saying. How are you, my dear?” Sansa couldn’t help a chuckle, she had missed some of Anya’s dry humour.

“I’m… In trouble. Business trouble.” She said, deciding to go to the point, before the other woman could bring up anything else.

“Why, how is it that Stark Inc.’s VP of Finance is in trouble? It must be quite a difficult situation, if you of all people can’t figure it out, I don’t see how I can be of help.”

“I’m afraid I let myself get to close to this problem and it made me quite short-sighted. I need a fresh set of eyes on this thing… Even an old lady’s eyes should be fresher than mine at this point.” She added, knowing the teasing would be welcome, and earning a loud laughter from Anya.

“At least you acknowledge I’m an old crone. And has the good sense to know old cranes like me can have answers. What is your problem, my dear.”

“Well, we’ve recently been approached for a prospective partnership. He has quite a good business plan really, and it’s something we’re all the quite excited to do, but I’m still not sure it’s a safe bet.”

“Does this have anything to do with why Prince Jon Targaryen has been in Winter Town?” Something in Anya’s tone made Sansa’s brain stop.

“How do you know he’s here?”

“Everyone knows he’s there. He _is_ a Targaryen, is he not? But most people assume he only went to visit his birth mother’s family, after the whole business with Queen Elia dying. Baelish, however… He’s been thinking otherwise.”

“Baelish? Damn. Anya, what has he said?” she could feel cold creeping up her spine at the thought of Petyr Baelish somehow getting involved into this.

“Nothing to me, of course. But I have friends in the Eyrie. They say he’s been preparing for some kind of venture up in your North. He seems pretty confident some opportunity will arise there… And he’s been following the Prince pretty close. And he’s right, isn’t he? Tell me everything you can, Sansa, let’s find a way to wipe his smug smirk before it can even come up.”

Sansa didn’t even need to be urged to talk. She told Anya everything that was relevant, with as little detail as she could and especially leaving out the parts about how every meeting she had with Jon ended with her feeling both electrified and intoxicated at once and how her motivations might be a lot more personal than she’d like to admit.

“Well, the solution is quite obvious, dear. You need more money. Not too much, just enough to have the reserve. For that you’d either have to put more Stark money into this or propose a third party. I don’t think the Prince can offer more than what he did. Even Targaryen vaults aren’t endless.”

“A third party… That’s probably what Baelish has been preparing for, isn’t it? That or offering to partner with Jon if we reject him. If he approaches father or Jon, they won’t know not to accept it. They don’t know what he is like.”

“Then you’ll have to come up with a third party yourself.” Anya said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Sansa snorted at the thought.

“You speak as if it was easy. Everyone else with this kind of money is either corrupt, bankrupt, stupid or wouldn’t be interested. We can’t _trust_ 90% of the people with this kind of money… Maybe a loan from the Iron Bank would…”

“Their interest rates are ridiculous, Sansa! The answer _is_ simple, dear. You.”

“No, I don’t think we can put more money into this. It’ll be taxing as it is and…” But Anya interrupted her.

“Not you Starks, you Sansa. Use Harry’s money.”

“I’m NOT using Harry’s money!” She protested, vehemently.

She couldn’t even believe that was how Anya had chosen to bring up _that_ subject, of all things. She hated thinking about Harry, or Harry’s money, or anything else related to what came before that part of her life. Anya knew that, yet, she still, insisted on bringing it up whenever she could.

“It is _your_ money, whether you like it or not, Sansa. There’s no point in letting it sit around, especially when you can put it to good use.” Anya insisted.

“Harry would rage if he knew what good use I’d be putting his money to.” Sansa replied.

“All the more reason to use it like this. I loved him, I raised him, but he was a stupid boy who would never have known how to use all that money anyway.”

“I can’t use it… My family would want to know where the money came from.” Sansa shook her head.

“Well, it’s about damn time you tell them, don’t you think? Pretending the past didn’t happen won’t make it never happen, my dear. They know about that little shit Baratheon, do they not?” Sansa meekly answered affirmatively. “This is in no way worse than that. You got married for a month when you were 20, your husband died before you could divorce and you have all his money. It’s quite a simple explanation. And it would be a great way for you to transform that money and the pain into something good. You want this partnership to happen, child. This is the best way. Just do it.”

 

-x-x-x

 

For the first half of her year in the Vale, things had been hell to Sansa. Between trying to earn Anya Waynwood’s trust, trauma counseling forcing her to deal with everything Joffrey had done, avoiding her aunt’s husband’s unwanted advances and trying to keep her grades up, she almost gave up. That was, until something seemed to click and Anya decided to take her under her wing after she managed to spot Baelish’s attempts at fraud. Getting closer to Anya was how she met Harry.

Harry Hardyng and Anya were distantly related, some kind of cousins eleven times removed, but Anya had been good friends with his mother, so, when his parents died, in a hiking accident, she took it upon herself to raise the young orphan boy. He was handsome and charming and seemed very real in his attempts to woo her, in a way Joffrey had never seemed.

After weeks of deflecting his attentions, Sansa figured she couldn’t keep hiding herself from the world because of Joffrey. She said yes and they started going out and eventually dating.

Dating Harry had been a whirlwind of romance, sex and extravagance, and between her trying to compensate for her awful past relationship and Harry’s habit of grandeur, it was no wonder that way too soon they thought themselves in love and eloped. Things started unravelling pretty fast after that.

Harry wasn’t outright abusive or evil like Joffrey, but his misogyny clashed with Sansa’s ambitions. He didn’t want a wife who was more concerned about work than about him and a prospective family and he let her know it. She tried to explain she wouldn’t be like Anya, who for all her qualities and clear love for him, had been quite absent from his life in the ways that counted. That had been before Sansa realised that his stupid opinions weren’t her fault, or Anya’s, but just the reasoning of a privileged boy.

They’d spend hours arguing and end up having sex on whatever surface was closer. The angry sex was still pretty great, but by the end of their first month of marriage they both knew it wasn’t enough to sustain their relationship. So Harry went hiking for the weekend, something he always did when he was upset, to remember his parents, leaving Sansa to move out her stuff. They’d start dealing with the divorce on Monday.

But Harry fell, and they never got divorced. That was how Sansa was left with all his money, houses, cars, things she never even wanted from him, and a decision to go back North and finally be with her family again. The only other person in the world who knew about that was her father.

 

-x-x-x

 

She dreamed of Harry that night. Of all the good and the bad. In her dream he smiled kindly at her while he pleaded with her to see how right he was, she wasn’t made for this. He took her to the hiking trail and when they got to the highest spot he told her what was happening was her fault, for not listening to him, and jumped. She stood there, looking at his broken body down the hill, until a hand touched her shoulder and turned her around.

“Gods, you’re fascinating.” He told her and the last thing she saw in the dream, before she woke up, were sparkling grey eyes getting closer to hers.

The sound of her phone blasting off some default ring tone was what woke her up, way too soon for her taste. She had spent hours thinking and rethinking Anya’s plan. She didn’t want to do it, but it really did seem like the best course of action. Sighing, she picked up her phone, answering it with a sleepy hello.

“Are you _just_ waking up?” Bran’s voice sounded really loud for her sleepy brain’s taste. “I guess that answers mother’s question.”

“What does she want?” Sansa asked, standing up to open her windows.

“To know if you and Jon are having lunch with us before Arya’s game. Rickon just got here from his dorm, so we’re having a late-ish lunch and she wasn’t sure what you had planned.”

“Oh! Right, right. I don’t think we can make it there for lunch, Winterfell is completely out of the way… I don’t even know what Jon is doing right now, either. Tell her we’ll meet you at the stadium, at any rate.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” He chuckled.

“Oh, how was your flight from Oldtown? Gods it’s so weird to think that all of us will get together tomorrow, for the first time in a while…” She digressed as she looked for her jersey.

“It almost feels like an especial occasion. Actually, scratch that, with Jon here it almost feels like our childhood summers. Except there were less significant others back in the day.” He chuckled.

“That is true. I can’t believe even Rickon is dating, I feel so old. Did you bring Jojen?”

“Yes. Rickon didn’t bring his mysterious girlfriend, though, so you can still pretend he’s ten.” She laughed at that. “Well, I’ll tell mother you’re not coming. Tell Jon I said hi.” With that Bran hung up, and Sansa figured she should call Jon.

They had agreed on going to the game together today, but she didn’t know where he was staying or if he had other plans. In the back of her mind she hoped he didn’t so she could ask him for lunch, but she tried not to think too much about that. She finished picking her outfit and dialed his number, putting it on speakerphone.

“Good morning, Sansa.” His voice greeted her from the speaker and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Good morning, Jon. How are you?” She asked as she pulled on her skinny jeans.

“I was about to call, actually. Isn’t Arya’s game in about three hours?”

“Yes, it is. I was going to call you earlier and invite to have lunch at Winterfell, but I overslept, now there’s not a lot of time to go there. But I am calling now to ask if you had lunch already.” She had pulled on the Jersey and was brushing her hair by then. It was dirty and flat, but she didn’t think she’d have time to wash it.

“I did not. Do you want to grab something in the hotel restaurant together?” He sounded almost hesitant as he asked her, which was kind of adorable.

“I was going to ask that. Where are you staying?” He told her, as she tried to find something to do with her hair. She thought maybe a braid would be enough to make it look less awful, and started plaiting it.“Oh, that’s close. And it’s close to the stadium, so we can walk. I can be there in about an hour, is that OK?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you then. Wait for you at the lobby.”

“See you then.”

She hung up and stared at her mirror, hating the braid she had done, then, wondering if Jon would think she looked younger with her hair like that, or notice how disgusting it looked. Banishing thoughts of Jon, or trying to do such, she cursed herself and  undressed again, to jump into the shower, deciding it was best to just wash her hair, at that point.

When she got to his hotel, exactly one hour later, her hair was pushed to the side in a carefully made cascade of auburn curls. She had slightly more make up on than she’d usually had on game days, as she had picked a red lipstick, and she almost hated herself, because she knew there was only one reason she had put the extra effort. The reason had stood up, staring at her a bit wide-eyed, and at the moment, any temptation she had to hate herself vanished. The way he was looking at her, that was definitely an investment worth making.


	4. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jon can't notice the obvious and metaphors will hit you in the face like a truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about taking so long to post this. I got sick, then life happened. I am currently working on the next chapter, even though I don't like posting when the next one isn't ready yet, but the next one is kinda heavy and I don't know when I'll finish it, plus I feel like it's been time enough without updates.  
> Thank you for your comments <3

Jon had spent the whole morning fighting the urge to call Sansa. She had said she’d call so they could settle how they’d go to Arya’s game, but he was an early riser and time just didn’t seem to pass as he waited. He eventually decided to distracted himself in the hotel gym, and he ended up spending more time there than he had planned, apparently there was a lot of built up frustration inside him. He knew why, though, it was because despite all the flirting him and Sansa had been doing, he couldn’t help but want more. And he couldn’t help trying to avoid getting more. He figured maybe he should tone it down a bit. They had warmed up enough to each other and this was a dangerously thin line to walk.

When he saw her arrive for their lunch before the game, his resolve vanished and he couldn’t remember why on the world he’d ever not want to charm her. He could have sworn she never looked more beautiful than in that simple outfit, jeans, and that long cascade of glossy red hair flowing over one of her shoulders. He knew it wasn’t the case, though, because he had had that thought every day the past week, and it seemed impossible that she’d been becoming more and more beautiful as the days passed. That was only in his head, though, so he closed his mouth and walked to greet her.

“You’re... Hi.” He cursed himself for the stutter, as he kissed her hand.

“Good afternoon, Jon.” She smiled, and leaned to kiss his cheek, leaving him with the feeling that his skin was burning, he wished that kiss had been somewhere else.

“Ready for lunch?” He asked, already take the chance to place his hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards the restaurant.

“Yes, I am. I completely over slept and didn’t have breakfast. I’m starving.” She smiled at him and suddenly he felt her hand on his cheek, as she rubbed it with her thumb, gently but with purpose. He really couldn’t help but state at her then, her blue eyes sparkling and her red lips looking almost like she applied a magnet for his eyes, instead of lipstick. She seemed to notice it, and it might have been too much, because she blushed a bit, and he only ever saw her blush when he was particularly intense, and pulled back her hand. “You had some lipstick there, I’m afraid it was my fault.” She explained and he fought the urge to say he wouldn’t mind getting her lipstick all over his face.

“Well, thanks.” His voice a bit more coarse than he would have liked, and he swallowed dry. “We should find a table, anyway.” He gestured to the table filled place and led her to a small table for two.

Lunch was mostly a quiet affair. They didn’t talk much, keeping it to small talk, until Sansa mentioned do his nephews and he couldn’t help but go on a long rant about each one of them and their funny stories. She seemed really interested and that made him even more into it, especially as she slid closer in her chair and their knees touched under the table, as he told about the time he had taken 7 year old Aemon to the natural history museum to see the dragon bones. He couldn’t help but to feel proud he had captivated her so much.

“So, then, Aemon actually runs away from me and tries to climb one of the big fossils there, while screaming ‘Look uncle! I’m Aegon, the conqueror!’ The little one actually managed to evade anyone who tried to pull him back down, and got to the very top of the thing. It’s a good thing Aemon is so skinny, I’m not sure it would have taken anyone else’s weight.” Sansa laughed and Jon couldn’t help but smiling wider. “It took a lot to coax him back down, and Rhae made some donation to the museum, I think they used to put some protective glass around the big one.” He finished.

“Who would have thought Jon Targaryen is a cool uncle? Even if unable to keep his nephews in check. How does princess Rhaenys even manages with three boys?”

“Well, she has a lot of nannies, but the boys are usually pretty well behaved, just... Prone to bouts of excitement. But I do think she’s going to keep trying until she gets a girl, hopefully this is it. I don’t think I can deal with more than four kids.” He chuckled, but cut himself short. He wasn’t supposed to talk about Rhae’s pregnancy just yet. “I mean... I hope next time is it.”

“Don’t worry, Jon. Your secret is safe with me.” She bumped her knees gently into his, going back to her original position. “But I do wonder how she can keep going. I didn’t know the world could handle more of those prone to bouts of excitement Targaryens.” She teased, and he knew it, though he wasn’t sure it was about his family or himself.

He knew most of his family tended to be consumed in fits of passion that would burn bright and hot and seem to consume the world, even consume the world when it stopped burning, as his father could illustrate very well, but he was always teased as being the cold Targaryen, or as cold as Targaryens could get. Even Elia would sometimes comment on how his passions were a lot more like his mother’s, constant, strong and unshakeable, like the perennial snows of the North. He wondered if he seemed different to Sansa, somehow.

“Did I say something wrong?” She asked, and he figured his thoughts must have shown up in his face, or maybe he stayed quiet for too long.

“No, no! I was just thinking about how right you are.” He chuckled.

“I mean, not all of them are like that. You seem pretty level headed most of the time, though this… I mean, the whole reason why you’re here, I can tell it’s a passion project, isn’t it? You’re so intensely devoted to it, it sort of infects everyone else.” She smiled.

“Does that mean you’re on board with my business plan?” He smirked a bit.

“I didn’t say that. I’m still thinking. There are some issues but…” She seemed genuinely concerned, so he decided to change the topic. He really did want to enjoy this moment with her and not think about business, anyway.

“Ok, then let’s not think about that for now.”

“We should get going, anyway. We don’t have a lot of time and I don’t want to miss the beginning of the game.” She said, moving to call the waiter to pay.

“It’s ok, I’m charging it to my room.” He smiled. “Let’s just go, then.” He stood up and offered his hand to help her up.

She took it so gingerly, if it wasn’t for the fact he could feel her warmth spreading through his skin, he would have doubted she was even touching him at all. But she was and she stood up to face, looking right into his eyes. He saw her eyes roaming his face, and allowed himself to watch her as well. He didn’t know how long they stood like that, but the spell was broken when she pulled back her hand and took a step back, humming slightly.

“No. No. This won’t do.” She shook his head and Jon was sure he could feel his face fall in disappointment, though he wasn’t sure she’d noticed, because she was tugging at his arm. “You can’t go to the game like that.” She gestured to his shirt and pulled him again. Jon held back a relieved sigh, but couldn’t help laughing some.

“And what is wrong with my shirt. Isn’t black the Wolves colour?” At that she looked offended and crossed her arms.

“Oh, I should let you go like that and watch you get mobbed. The wolves colours are white and grey, like the old Stark banners. They are named Wolves because of Northern history, after all. One would expect the northerner Prince to know more about it...” this time Sansa did notice his expression change, though because she looked immediately sorry. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean like... Of course you don’t have to know... I mean... You weren’t raised here, to know about the wolves... Or the north, and aunt Lyanna... I mean... I’m wearing a jersey, you should have noticed… Oh, gods. I’m so sorry, Jon.”

“You’re right, though. This is the place my mother came from, I should know more about it. Elia and father tried... But there’s only so much you can learn from tutors and the occasional summer vacation. Though now that you mentioned, I do remember Robb, Brand and Arya going on and on about direwolves and Stark banners once...” He chuckled. “You didn’t say anything wrong, I just got... Well, it makes me sad how right you are. It’s part of the reason I came here, though... Of why I want to do this... The whole thing with The Wall, I mean. So, thanks for being right. But I have to admit, the fact that you were wearing a jersey was the last thing through my mind, you look so lovely, it distracted me from it. Where do I get a proper attire for the game?”

“Oh, please. I can’t let you get it. It’s a Stark tradition, that a Wolves jersey shall be a gift bestowed upon a newcomer by one of us. I’m getting you your own on the store at the stadium.” She said, clearly joking with her language and smiled, wrapping her arms around one of again so she could lead him to where they should go.

“A newcomer?” He asked, gladly following, hoping she wouldn’t let go.

“Well, a person who’s coming to our box for the first time. Everyone there will have one, we can’t have ssomeone there not actively rooting for the Wolves.”

 

-x-x-x

 

The Winter Arena was a lot bigger than Jon expected, though the influx of people entering the place made it clear it was the right size. Apparently the northerners loved their sport and their team and we’re very eager to show their support. He saw hundreds of children, men and women, all properly wearing white and grey jerseys; a group, in particular, called his attention, a group of a dozen girls, none older than 12, all wearing jerseys with the name A. Stark and the number 7 printed on the backs.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” He heard Sansa say, and looked at her to see her in watching the same group. “And to think mother didn’t want to allow her to play in the first place. She spent years arguing with Arya and father that it wasn’t appropriate for a lady to play such contact sports. I think she only really accepted it when all the college invitations started coming, and I mean, places she hadn’t even applied wanted her, so mother saw some benefits that not even our name could give her. Of course, though, she went to Winter Town University. Played for them like father and Robb and many other Starks, but she took this further than any other Stark before her. Even. Other gets all proud and misty eyed when she sees things like those girls. We all do, really. Women’s hockey wasn’t as big as men’s until people like Brienne showed up, and not too long ago the girls on the team wouldn’t get nearly half as much recognition.” At that she pointed to what Jon figured was the store and huge banner with the print of Arya skating was hanged on one side of the door, the other being of a man he figured played for the team as well. “Now my little sister is the second most valuable player in both teams, and early enough in her career that she might pass Smalljon Umber soon enough. Even mother has to be proud of that.”

“My mother played, didn’t she? Elia told me. She got injured her sophomore year and never got back to it.”

“Yes, she did. Father always said she’d have been like Brienne, too, if it wasn’t for her injury. One of the paragon of women’s hockey.” Sansa led him in, and started picking up jerseys, placing them in front of him, checking their sizes.

“I never really got ice hockey.” He said thoughtfully. “I should learn more about it.”

“If you want. You’ll have a house full of Stark to teach you tomorrow. But I don’t think you have to learn about it only because your mother played once upon a time. Honestly, you have to feel at least a bit passionate about it, or it won’t stick.” She finally handed him one, gesturing him to try it on, which he did over his black shirt. “Especially if you’re going to get into it in the north. We take our hockey really seriously.” She gestured for him to take it off then.

“I can tell as much.” He laughed. “Especially seeing as you had to get me a jersey.” He teased.

“Like I told you, we can’t have someome there not showing support. Now you need a nickname.”

“A nickname?”

“Yes, to get printed on the back.” She said as if it was obvious.

“I don’t have a nickname, my name already has only three letters.” He said. “Should we go with Targaryen?”

“No, we need a nickname? Doesn’t you family call you anything?”

“Yes, they call me Jon. Or brother, son, uncle, nephew. Somehow I don’t think any of those would fit.” He smirked.

“Then we’ll have to think of something to call you. Mine is Stone, you see, because my siblings think I’m not as moved by hockey. Arya’s was Mercy, before she played for the wolves, because she showed none on the rink. Bran is the Warg, because he can know what the players will do as if he was in their heads. And so on. With how you said you feel about hockey, I have half a mind to call you Newbie.” She chuckled.

Jon laughed too, it wouldn’t be inaccurate to call him that. But that made him remember what she told about needing to be passionate, it wasn’t the first time the thought passed his mind that day. _‘Constant, strong and unshakeable, like the perennial snows of the North’_. He had never thought so much about needing to be passionate as he had in the presence of Sansa Stark. Not even with Ygritte, with her, she had been passionate for the both of them, and Jon had been glad to let her fire guide his actions. He wondere, briefly, how their relationship would have been, if he had let his own nature take charge. _‘Constant, strong and unshakeable, like the perennial snows of the North’_.

“I think I’d like to use Snow.” He said, after a while, as she was looking at him expectantly.

“Snow?” She questioned.

“It’s uh...” Jon felt his cheeks burn a bit. Somethings he couldn’t admit to her, really. “It was something Elia used to say... And I like winter.” He added the last bit, feeling a bit stupid, and he could see she thought his reason was silly, as well.

“OK. Snow it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, if you want to check me out outside of AO3, my tumblr is theballadofsteadfastlove


	5. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has a heart to heart with Arya, then opens part of her heart to Jon. The metaphors are still hitting you in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's a been a long, long, long while.  
> Life got in the way, then inspiration left me. But it's back now.  
> I hope you enjoy it.

 

The game had been fun, though, despite her love for the sport, Sansa was hesitant to admit, it had been mostly because of Jon. He had immediately gotten in a nice chat about the South with her mother, then talked to Bran and Rickon a bit about their studies. He even made a point of talking to Jojen, Bran’s boyfriend, and was able not to look shocked when he learned he was actually Bran’s ex-girlfriend brother. Sansa knew he was surprised, though, because he hesitated a second to react properly. Bran and Jojen didn’t seem to notice, though. He even got teased about his nickname, with Rickon declaring it was stupid.

The best part, however, was that when the game started, he sat beside her and kept asking her about what was going on, in whispers so close to her ear, she could feel his warmth on the skin of her neck and shiver. She was pretty sure he noticed those, too, because, eventually, every time he did it, he’d find other ways to touch her too, be it discreetly running his fingers through the end of her hair, holding her shoulder and gently brushing his thumb on her neck, or just plain brushing his lips there too as he talked. It all felt really deliberate, she knew it had to have been on purpose.

But she didn’t care, because she’d taken her revenge the last time he asked her something, by leaning towards him, using a hand on his thigh, as up on his thigh as it was appropriately possible, to support herself as she answered him. The look on his face had been priceless. He didn’t blush at first, his face went pale, and he raised his eyebrows, she thought maybe she had taken it too far, and when she moved back he blushed, and when he looked at her, there was something else, a small, satisfied smile, she wasn’t sure what meant.

They were all in Winterfell now, celebrating the Wolves victory, even though they never doubted it would be the case. The Seals were good, but not THAT good. The only women’s teams in Westeros that could beat the Wolves were definitely not in the Seven Kingdoms, but were the teams of the city-states of the Wildlands, past the wall. For all their political disarray (borders were still a matter of contention, and the lack of, at least some forms of United council among them never helped there) most of their history had been pretty progressive when it came to women and they had the reputation of being some of the fiercest women in the known world. And if their women’s hockey team were any indication, their reputation was well earned. Watching the Wildlands championship, and their mixed gender matches, had been the most fun part of many of Sansa’s lonely nights.

It was that thought that made her approach Arya, her sister had arrived not long ago, after celebrating with the team, bringing Gendry with her. The Bull was talking to Bran and Jon and Arya was looking for something on the shelf.

“Great game, sister.” She said. “What are you looking for?”

“Music. Something we can actually listen to, but apparently only mother and father have any discs left here.” Sansa laughed a bit. About that her sister was right, all the kids had taken their discs with them, until all that was left was their parent’s taste.

“I’d say use the net, but gods, the wireless is terrible here.”

“I know right? Why don’t they use a router around here, I’ll never know.” Arya said, apparently giving up. “So, I see operation avoid Jon has failed. You two are awfully close these days.” Sansa had always known that asking Arya for help avoiding lunch alone with Jon had been a bad choice, but she had felt quite trapped at the time, so she accepted the teasing.

“Ah, well, the awkwardness wasn’t as great as I thought it would be. I was a lot more hung up on the past than he was.”

“Well, as someone who didn’t like you for the longest time, I can tell you, it’s pretty hard to stay mad at you for long when you’re just so fucking nice. I probably hold this record.”

“Arya!” Sansa said, mostly regarding the language her sister had used, but also because the truth in that had hurt.

“Well, it’s true. For the longest time I thought we’d never be real sisters, and it wasn’t because our tastes were so different... Didn’t you ever feel like that?” Arya picked up a beer and opened it before offering another to Sansa.

“Only when we were much younger. When I thought mother and other older women were right about everything in the world and you were the complete opposite of a proper lady was supposed to be and that it would ruin my chances at having a full life.” She all but snorted at herself, taking the beer. “But it was mostly because I thought you were doing it on purpose.”

“Sometimes I was, I mean, you were always so perfect, everyone was always comparing us like I was... Broken. Hating you, pissing you off felt like the right thing to do.”

“I can honestly say I’m glad we’re past that. Father was always right about that too. Remember how he would say we were more similar than we thought and the thing about us being stronger together... It wasn’t until you defended me from Joffrey that time that... I always thought everyone thought I deserved it... Yet you jumped right into it, worried about me. You were the first to show me that I wasn’t alone.” Sansa smiled.

“Oh, don’t mention that little shit. And you know, anyone else, mother, father, our brothers... They would have done the same. I just happened to be the first one to see you in two years and figure it out. I always thought you hated us too and that’s why you were holled up in King’s Landing for two years not talking much to anyone. I mean, you didn’t exactly leave on the best terms.”

“I was stupid.” Sansa shrugged.

“We all were.” Arya finished her beer. “Doesn’t mean any of us deserved to end up in an abusive relationship, much less you... We drove...”

“I know you all feel like you handed me to Joffrey on a silver platter when I left, but I was naive and he took advantage of that. Yes, maybe if things had been different, if I had been more reasonable, instead of thinking mother and father wanted to ruin my life; or maybe if they had been more concerned to watch Joffrey than Cersei, we could have avoided some of it, not all. But in the end he’s still a psycho asshole and the only one to blame.”

“Wise words.” Arya nodded. “It’s good to see you’re not misplacing that blame. Now I think we all only need to see you trying to be happy and we’ll let it go.” She teased.

“I am happy.”

“No, you’re not. You’re content. But you still dream about knights and charming Princes, all that romantic stuff you’re not going to get if you keep pretending to be happy up your tower. And right now there’s a literal Prince trying to climb that tower. I’m not saying he’s the right prince, but you’ve been up there long enough to at least wonder...”

“Arya... Are you getting somewhere with that metaphor? It’s getting really intricate; we might get lost.”

“I’m not blind. I can see you and Jon have something going on. I’ve watched you make eyes at each other all night, it’s getting annoying. Just give Jon a chance, Sansa. At least take that sexual tension out of the way. God knows you could use it. Him too. Do you know his fiancée died over a year ago and he’s been alone ever since?”

“It’s called grieving. And it’s not like that with us.” Arya just raised one eyebrow. “It’s not. We just flirt.”

“Right, because flirting means nothing is going on... It’s just stuff cousins do. It’s not like his sister isn’t married to her cousin or anything. You want him, he wants you, it’s as clear as day if anyone has eyes to look.” With that Arya walked away, probably annoyed with how her attempted pep talk had been fruitless.

Sansa just laughed, but she did let herself think about the advice her younger sister had given her. It was all a bit more complicated than how Arya had put it. It was more than just being scared of being in a relationship. There were just so many things to consider, it was easier just pretending she didn’t think about him like that. She sighed and went to a balcony, admiring the old castle in the distance.

“What’s troubling you? Don’t say it’s business.” She was startled to suddenly find herself accompanied, but she wasn’t really surprised it was Jon. He joined her leaning against the wall.

“Did you know the castle was completely destroyed?” She asked, not looking at him. “About a thousand years ago, well, five hundred, really... During the War of the Five Kings... Some ironborn invader burned it down, though Theon will tell you it was the Boltons. That war almost wiped down our name from history. Yet, here we stand, and so does the castle our ancestors rebuild. It only took them about four centuries. It’s a fitting metaphor for life, I think. We go through shit and we can rebuild ourselves, sometimes it takes a lot of time, hardwork and people willing to continue the work, and no one will quite know the difference. I’m pretty sure that the Starks from those days would look at the castle and know all the little differences, but for us it’s our pride and our history.”

“Well, that’s definitely not business.” He chuckled. “May I ask what made you think about that?”

She looked at him then. He was close, but watching the castle as well, thinking about her words. Jon had had a pretty good life, he was a prince, after all, but having a good life didn’t mean it was an easy one, she knew, because she had had a part once, in making it difficult. She knew what some people thought of him and knew some of his loss. His mother, his broken father, his step-mother, his fiancée. He knew about loss he could probably understand some of what she said and she wondered if he’d understand if she told him everything and never before she wanted to tell someone everything like she did now.

“Do you know about Joffrey Baratheon?” She asked, waiting for his reaction. It prompted him to look at her.

“I know some, I mean... Mostly gossip.” He seemed a bit embarrassed to admit it.

“Of course, his dear mother wouldn’t let any of it become... Official news. I do suppose it’s bound to become gossip when the heir to Storm’s End beats the older daughter of the Lord of Winterfell... Please, tell me that Arya, beating the shit out of him is part of the gossip.”

“I’m afraid not, I’ll be sure to spread that, if you want...” He smirked a bit.

“I honestly don’t care. I chose not to make it news, as well. At the time because I thought it was too humiliating. I didn’t want to keep remembering it. It’s why I moved to the Vale after, not here. I could be someone else there. I was someone else there, sometimes, it was fun to pretend... And it helped me build myself up again. And after that, well, it was a lot easier to see it wasn’t my fault and move on from Joffrey.”

“But did you, really? I mean... What he put you through... How do you forget?”

“I didn’t forget, and I didn’t forgive. But I let it only be a brick on my metaphorical, rebuilding. It’s there, it’s part of who I am, but it isn’t all of it. There’s so much more... Sometimes it’s all people see, though, that brick... That’s what bothers me, really. My family, sometimes my friends... They look at me and they think all my choices were made because of Joffrey. There are few people who don’t make me feel like that. Most of them are my friends from the Vale, the ones I pretended to be someone else when I met.”

“Do you mean that literally?” He asked in a frown, and she chuckled.

“I do, actually. At first I would introduce myself as Alayne Stone to some people, so they wouldn’t ask about Sansa, so I could be free of my past, someone carefree. A few of them found out who I was after a while and they helped me see Sansa and Alayne weren’t so different and to accept everything... Well, it was a complicated moment in my life. A lot of things happened, I thought I could leave some if it behind... It’s been a process, learning I can’t, but I shouldn’t let those things define who I am, either.”

“That’s wise. You’re so much more than what happened to you. You’re intelligent, smart, fun, kind, and so beautiful, inside and out... I don’t understand how can anyone look at you and be around you and feel anything other than joy.”

His words made her heart race inside her chest. She wanted to reach for his face and kiss him right there, family and issues be damned. At the same time, of felt wrong to do it when there was still things to share, that could affect their relationship, be it as friends or business partners or... Whatever else that could turn into. And he was so, so close…

“I was married.” She blurted out.

“What?” he took a step back, looking as confused as she did felt for just saying that, but she couldn’t help it.

She told him everything about her time in the Vale and Harry, their whirlwind relationship, the failed marriage and Harry’s death. Jon took it all in without interrupting, merely nodding and looking mildly concerned, but no other judgement otherwise.

“And it’s not really a part of my life I feel comfortable talking about. Only my dad knows about it, because he helped me settle everything after Harry died. And some of my friends from the Vale, but they don’t really know we got married, it was all so sudden.” She sighed, looking up at him, afraid of his reaction.

Instead he leaned forward and kissed her. And she melted into his arms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that's a cliffhanger.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I have the basic outline for this in my head, but it's taking a life of its own as I write. It's mainly a Jon/Sansa story for now, and I don't think that will change. What might change is the ammount of side characters and how much development and importance they might get, or the addition of warnings. Thank you for reading and I'd love to hear feedback from you. Thanks.


End file.
